My Ghostly Life
by KHwhitelion
Summary: JD, honey... he's not your father." All it took were four simple words to change the lives of JD and Turk in a way they'd never have expected. DP/Scrubs crossover!
1. Prologue

**Hey everyone! It's me! Welcome to my first Scrubs crossover fic! Co-written/beta read by my friend Celestialstorywriter (check out her stuff!) **

**XD This story took a lot of brainstorming on both our parts to come together, so I hope you won't over look it just cuz it's a crossover fic! We both put a lot of time and effort making sure the plot/story/characters work well, and don't seem all out of place.**

**And yes, I know I should be working on my other fics, but come on! How could I pass the opportunity to write this????????? Also….I'm having a liiiiiiiiiiiiittle bit of trouble forming chapter 8 of "My accident, My son, My fault," but I'll get there! I promise!**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

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"I know you're there, boy." A chilling voice stated from the cloaked figure before him. He swore under his breath, his hands curling into anxious fists. Though he'd been here countless times in the past, this time around, it was different.

_Everything_ was different.

The already churning knot in his stomach twisted again, as he stared at the back of the other man, forcing himself to keep his head about him. Losing it now would only make things worse. "Hello….Vlad." He replied, an unfamiliar callousness in his voice.

In front of him, the much older man turned around; his eyebrow raised in slight confusion. "My, what a vile tone." He speculated, azure eyes meeting those of the younger man, "why such an attitude?"

For a moment, he froze, overtaken by the expression in Vlad's eyes—an expression he'd only recently been able to decipher. His heart, already hammering in his ribcage, began echoing in his ears, maximizing in volume until it temporarily disrupted his thought process. _Shit, _he thought, eyes wide as his mind went completely blank.

"Did you hear me, boy?"

He blinked—the older man's question shattering his paralysis. And reminding him what he came here to do. This was it, it was now or never.

"I heard you." He stated coldly, sounding far more confident than he actually felt, "who do you think you're talking to?" He glared at the man, his eyes showing defiance instead of fear. He had always been good at concealing his true feelings—even in situations such as this. Some may have thought him cold, but he knew the mask he put up would only benefit him in the future.

For a moment, Vlad did not reply, and for a split second it seemed as if his plan was about to come to a devastating end. However, the silver-haired merely smiled, his unnaturally sharp canines flashing, despite being in his human form. "I see I trained you well," he observed, statement over flowing with enough smugness and pride it was sickening to listen to. A part of him almost wanted to gag.

And he would have, had he not been desperately trying to hide his terror.

Thankfully, Vlad was too consumed by his own ego to comprehend what such a 'vile tone' meant coming from him. Too blinded by his self-dubbed brilliance to realize what was about to happen.

That would only last a few more minutes.

"Well, my boy" the older man went on, making a miraculous revival for someone clearly drowning in their own vanity, "is there anything I can do for you? We don't have another session together for at least two more days, so I can only assume you being here means there's something on your mind." He folded his arms, tapping his foot with the slightest impatience as he waited for an explanation.

_Come on!_ His mind shrieked, aware the moment was his for the taking,_ just do it! If you don't now, you may not get the chance again! _

His chest squirmed in slight revulsion at the conclusion of his inner thoughts. Partially because of how abnormally enthusiastic they had sounded—especially given the circumstances—and partially because….he knew they were right. This was most likely the only opportunity he'd have. His arrival, expression….thought process….were all off today—unpredictable. Even for the man who'd known him for a good number of years. There was no going back now.

"Damned conscious." He muttered bitterly, straightening his position as he faced the silver-haired man.

Vlad, not privy to the mental 'beat down' the boy had undergone, raised an eyebrow. "What was that?" He inquired, his foot-tapping coming to an abrupt halt. "Did you say something?"

The already painful knot in his stomach seemed to navigate its way to his throat—threatening to choke both him, and his explanation. Yet, locking gazes with the older man, staring into those dark, gleaming eyes; the fear clouding his mind dissipated….the importance of the upcoming conversation finally sinking in. "I…." He began, ignoring the trickle of sweat along the side of his face. "I know what you are."

He'd expected a change in Vlad's manner; expected him to react with a far more boisterous statement than the near-monotone responses he'd been previously giving.….

….however, what he _hadn't_ expected was for said boisterous statement to come in the form of _laughter._

"'….know who I _am_?'" Vlad repeated, sputtering his words in between chuckles, "well I should hope so! It's been….how long since we've known each oth—"

"That's not what I meant!" The younger man cried, angry at the other man's misunderstanding. "I mean….I mean I know what you do! How you really use your ghost powers!"

Vlad stopped laughing.

`Crap. He shouldn't have said that without thinking about it first.

"_Do_ you now." The silver-haired man replied, suspicion prickling his voice, "and what, pray tell, is it that I do?" The last part was lower— darker; Vlad's normally blue pupils flashing a dangerous crimson.

Inwardly, he swore, taking a deep breath against the rising panic in his chest that threatened to break free. He couldn't choke now. Not if he wanted to be over and done with this.

"You…" He started, memories of that night….that fateful night when everything he came to know and respect shattered when the awful truth had been revealed, "you're a….a thief! A criminal! You use your powers against the law just to get what you want!" With each word, he felt his confidence rise, past events playing across his brain like a moving picture—fueling both his determination and disgust towards the man before him. "You're a liar… a cheater… a… a—"

Abruptly, Vlad laughed once more, cutting him off. Only this time around, it sent chills up the younger man's spine. "My dear boy, _that_ was no secret."

His mouth fell open slightly. _What?_

"Did you really think I acquired all _this_"—he made a swooping gesture with his hand, referring to the clearly expensive lengths of his mansion— "without use of my abilities?"

His emotional wall faltered then; providing Vlad with a window into the thoughts he had—up until that point—kept buried. Of course, he didn't realize it until after the older man's features twisted into a sinister grin.

"I… see…" he murmured, as if he suddenly understood it all. "And here I thought you knew the kind of man I was." He shook his head with the guise of disgrace, however, the younger man could clearly see the mockery hidden underneath. "Honestly, what did you expect me to do, hm? Dawn some ridiculous looking costume, run around rescuing those weak minded fools who would never in their right minds return the favor? Ha!"

His teeth were grit to the point where he could hear the sound of them grinding against each other within the walls of his mind. "You're a killer." He growled, fists clenching and unclenching until they were white, "I don't want anything more to do with you."

There. He said it. The words he'd long wanted to articulate but never could were finally expressed. Finally released. And with them came the acknowledgement that the ties he had had with the old man no longer mattered.

He should have felt content, he knew, for the newfound freedom bestowed upon him….yet his emotions were anything but. Looking at the old man, staring into his rapidly darkening expression; it was almost enough to crush the confidence he had so hastily gathered, right then and there.

"So…." Vlad hissed finally, "you think you can just throw it all away? Pretend like none of this ever happened?" The words were so cold, so venomous, his heart nearly stopped as he was hit with an onslaught of panic. "Then _what_ do you plan to do with _your own_ abilities, if not use them for your own personal benefit?"

_Oh shit, _he thought, swallowing hard. This wasn't going to be good.

Forcing a harsh tone into his voice, he answered the angered older man, with a response that would forever change his way of life. "I….I want to help people! Do things only I can do to benefit mankind!" He was perspiring profusely, his breath having become ragged from sheer exhilaration and fear. "And I don't give a _damn_ whether they're grateful or not." He added, hatred blazing in his eyes for the first time since meeting the older man so many years ago.

Vlad made no response at first—he seemed, in fact, to be dumbstruck upon hearing such an unyielding response. Gradually, though, his eyebrows began to slant, the base of his mouth twitching to form some sort of reply.

Then all at once, Vlad exploded.

"You _insolent_ child!" he bellowed furiously, his voice a deafening screech, "Who do you think you are to defy _me_?! Everything you are, everything you want to become—none of that would have been possible _without my help!_" The subtle fangs jutting out from before had grown their full length, each needle-tipped canine glistening dangerously. "Look at you," Vlad went on "up on your high horse—trying to talk down the man who's done nothing but aid you from the start! I opened your eyes to a world you'd never even dreamed existed! And this is the thanks I get?!" His entire being was shaking now, his eyes daggers boring into the younger man's skull.

There was a pause; both men swimming feverously in their own thoughts. Finally, the younger man broke it, speaking with such defiance he seemed alien to the man. "You're right, Vlad." He started, throwing the older man a short lived sense of pleasure, "you _did_ open my eyes." He inhaled sharply. "You showed me that I never—_ever_—want to become someone like _you_."

That did it. Whatever shred of restraint the silver-haired man had left on himself slipped away at that remark; the full of his irises—as well as his pupils---succombing to a vibrant, scarlet glow. "I won't let you go, boy!" He shrieked, his face paling with each punctuated word, "You are far too valuable!" On the word 'you' two black rings appeared around his midsection; moving in opposite directions as they engulfed his body.

He knew what was coming, even before the newly transformed man held up an ecto-energy ball to his head.

"You don't have a choice, _Plasmius_." The younger man challenged, activating the mental trigger in his mind. There was only one way out of this; that was apparent. As he too, became swallowed by his own supernatural rings, he made a vow. A vow that ,if he survived, he'd spend every minute of every day of the rest of his life making sure people like Vlad knew what it was like to feel pain; to feel suffering….

....to be treated like the scum of the earth they really were.


	2. My father's cake

**Here's chapter two! Haha thought I'd forgotten about this, didn't you?**

**Well, here it is!**

**As this fic is co-written, chunks of it were written by Celestialstorywriter, and chunks were written by me.**

**This fic, fyi, takes place roughly after "My Cake." So it's pretty early in the series. But it fits….**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

JD didn't bother to keep track of just how many days had passed; it was only a matter of time before he'd forget anyway.

Here they were… at his father's funeral. He had always known this day would come, he was a doctor for fuck's sake, but had never really given it much thought. Had never prepared himself.

He sat, hunched, in a church chair, the rows before and behind him filled with people who were all dead silent, some glancing at him in concern. He didn't even recognize half of them. Head hung, his bright blue eyes were wide, if not slightly cloudy, the emotions in them… indecipherable.

Admittedly, he had never thought too highly of his father. The man had never been there, he had even missed some of his birthdays.

Always off trying to sell something.

Distancing himself from his family.

From _him_. Preventing JD from getting to know his father on a personal level. All he _did_ know, in fact, were the little things—mainly his father's quirks, humor….and odd obsession with bodily functions. Still, whenever he _had been_ there, they managed to make quite a few memories….just not nearly as many as JD wanted.

And now he was dead. The time for memory making was over.

* * *

_"__**Cindy**__!" A booming voice bellowed across the hall, and JD winced, instantly recognizing it as Dr. Cox's. Forcing himself to smile, JD turned to face the older man, who was rapidly approaching with that certain stride he got only when he was ticked, and he looked __**pissed**__. Oh damn, what had he done now? And what was the residency director holding in his hand?_

_"I thought I told you no personal phone calls at work?" Dr. Cox growled, giving the younger man one of his most piercing glares. Trying not to wince again, JD looked at him ,confused. __**Phone call**__?_

_"Dr. Cox, what--?" Said man never let him finish his sentence, as he shoved a cordless hospital phone into his hands, whirling around Coxian-style to go wherever he was needed. JD, slightly stunned, looked down at the phone. Somebody had called him? At __**work**__? Were they nuts, or did they not know he worked at a __**hospital**__? Out of the corner of his eye, JD saw Carla's curious eyes from the nurse's station. Putting the phone to his ear, he was greeted by sniffling._

_"H-hello?" He squeaked into the device, apprehensive of the response. Perhaps a patient of his looking for comfort. He could deal with that. But why hadn't they called him on his cell phone. Logic told him it wasn't a good idea in the first place to give his patients his cell phone-number, but as usual, he ignored it._

_More sniffling answered him, then a shaky voice reached his ears, "Johnny, my baby, is that you?"_

_JD's breath hitched. "Mom?" He gasped, eyes widening. "A-are you __**crying**__?" He was answered by even more sniffling, louder than before. "Mom! Please, what's wrong?" He was starting to sound panicked now and he knew it, but didn't care. Concern was filling every corner of his mind._

_"J-J-Johnny, it's your father, he-he's…" She trailed off and started to sob, and JD opened his mouth to speak, before his mother continued even shakier than before, "T-the cake, should be there by t-tomorrow…"_

_He froze and nearly dropped the phone, the world around him becoming a blur. He swore he heard "Bambi?" but didn't investigate it. His mother was crying. His father… __**cake**__. _

_Oh __**no**__._

_Dan arrived the next morning at his door with a cake in hand. "Dad died." His big brother said in a quiet, almost whispering voice._

_"I know." He replied hoarsely._

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_Maybe I should have let him hug me,_ JD thought, his nose still aching from the punch he had received from Dr. Cox only a few days before his father's funeral. He had actually offered to hug him, and what had he done? Mouthed off to the man and wound up with an angry fist in his face. Of course, Dr. Cox proposing a hug was extremely hard to believe, considering the way he usually treated him….

JD sighed, but risked a glance from his seat to the coffin a few feet in front of him. His heart ache increased at the sight of the wooden deathbed; regretting the decision immediately.

"Dammit, dad." He muttered, tearing his eyes away from the coffin and shrinking even further into the chair.

"You okay, man?"

"Huh?" JD raised his head, only half surprised to see the worried eyes of Christopher Turk looking back at him. Though not immediate family, Turk had insisted on sitting in the front row, right next to his best friend. While some of the relatives protested against this, JD didn't care: time and time again, Turk had proved to be the brother Dan _should_ have been. He was the one who would laugh with JD when he thought something funny, who'd sulk with him when upset, and—most importantly—who'd never waste away drinking beers in a bathtub. To JD, Turk _was_ family.

Which made it all the more important he be up in the first row, supporting his best friend and making sure he was okay…..or as well as could be expected.

"I'm….I'm as well as can be expected." He repeated aloud, giving his friend a remorseful smile, "you know, since—"

Turk nodded, clamping his hand on JD's shoulder. "I know man, I know."

He didn't expect a response, and JD knew it; allowing himself to sink back into a small stupor of silence. There was just so much to think about; the suddenness of his father's death the prime example. Sam Dorian had been so young—you could hardly consider the man middle-aged—but he'd keeled over as if he were one of the many middle-aged patients JD attended to at Sacred Heart. Just like that….

….No. Not quite.

Unlike his patients, the last time his father visited, JD's medically inclined mind hadn't picked up on any symptoms that might indicate failing health. In fact….he'd almost completely disregarded the man as a nuisance.

It never occurred to him his father would—

"Whoa there, Johnny, I know that look. That's your, 'this is my fault dad's dead because of me' face."

Startled by his brother's voice, JD scowled. "We only have _one_ dad, Dan. _This_" he pointed to his face, "isn't a _look_."

Seated on his other side, the older Dorian shrugged. "Okay, so you caught me. Still doesn't mean you aren't blaming yourself for his death."

"I—"

"Dude," Turk cut in, "you totally are."

JD's head turned towards his best friend. "Not helping, Turk!" As if he didn't have enough on his mind already.  
Turk raised his hands in defense, "Hey, man. Just sayin'."

JD bit his lip and laid his head back against the back of the chair, as he was pretty low in his seat. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was slipping right through it-- literally.

"Ya sure yer not gonna fall outta there, Newbie?"

JD must've jumped ten feet in the air. All three heads-- JD, Dan and Turk's-- whipped around to see a black-clad Dr. Perry Cox, who was staring at JD with a strange new light in his eyes that said young doctor almost missed.

Turk's mouth fell open and Dan stared, dumbstruck.

"Dr. C-Cox!" JD stammered, blinking once and straightening himself. "What… what are you doing here?" His mind was reeling. Dr. Cox had barely known his father at all, why was he here? To get revenge for the three dooming nose-punch-inducing shoves? For the _WASH ME_? Crapcrapcrap--!

"Felt I should, since the guy was _your_ father and all, Alice." Came the gruff reply that gave nothing away.

That….wasn't what he'd been expecting. At all.

"Er….thanks?"

Dr. Cox's face flattened. "'_Thank you_,' he says. Way to pay your respects." With a nonchalant shrug, the older man downed a shot of….some alcoholic beverage….he'd been previously hiding.

_There _was the Perry Cox that JD knew.

"Well what do you want—"

"Let it go, man." Turk said, only loud enough for JD to hear, "you know not to mess with him while he's drinking."

A small nod of defeat. The memorial had yet to begin, and already JD felt exhausted. "I know Turk…." He replied, rubbing his temples, "….I just wish he'd come over here first, before _paying respects_ to the refreshment bar. His hand dropped, and his head fell back as a slightly stressed sigh escaped his lips.

" I didn't even know there was gonna be one here." Turk said, when it appeared his friend had finished his train of thought.

"Neither did I, Ghandi," Perry chimed in, clearly not caring he was interrupting, "but can't say I'm complaining."

To JD's right, Dan snickered. "A lot of people have been saying that. Myself included." He raised his arm, and with a swift movement, pulled the now empty glass from Dr. Cox's hand. "You can thank mom for the idea." He added, scanning the glass for any stray remnants of alcohol, "always _did_ know how to speak to the people."

Perry granted the older Dorian with the overdramatic eye roll, snatching the glass out of his hands. "If by that you really mean trying to drink away her pain and _nawt _face up to reality, then _yes_, Dan, that's exactly what she's—"

"Hey!"

The two men stopped cold, startled to see a scowling JD glaring back at them. "Watch what you say about mom." His voice was filled with an unusual harshness—even Turk seemed a tad shocked. JD couldn't help it; his mind dwelling back to that horrible, horrible phone call—his mother's devastated, heartbroken voice fueling this sudden anger within him. True, the two of them had never been on the best of terms, but that day, any mixed feelings he'd had about her melted away—her anguished sobs proving to JD she really had loved his father.

Rising to his feet, he muttered a quick, "I'm gonna go see if she's alright" before slipping past his friends, and down to said refreshment bar.

* * *

It wasn't all that hard to spot her; next to Dr. Cox, Barbara Dorian was the bar's only other frequent visitor; glass pressed to her lips, eyes misty with unshed tears. JD's stomach muscles tightened.

Maybe she really was drinking away the pain.

"Hi….mom." He said—a bit awkwardly—giving a feeble wave with his hand.

Her red-rimmed eyes tore from her glass, meeting her son's icy blue pupils sadly. "Hello, John." She replied hoarsely. "How….how are you doing?" Her voice was thick—different—filled with an unknown emotion that matched her shining eyes. It was almost frightening.

"Fine." JD said, forcing a small smile. No need to upset her further. "What about you, though? Are _you_ alright?"

Barbara sniffed, gaze falling to the floor. "As well as can be expected." The words were soft, almost automatic, signaling the woman did not wish to carry out conversation. But, being the doctor he was, JD knew he couldn't allow for his mother to absorb herself in misery—for the sake of her liver if anything else—so he continued to talk. A lot.

"You know, dad's not really gone….I mean physically, yeah, but spiritually…." He turned towards the sky, "he's somewhere up there, doing who knows what." He laughed—a little sadly—his mind drifting. "Although I admit….things'll be different around here without him. I know neither of us saw him very often, but when we did….man….those are some memories I'll never forget." Shoulders drooping, he leaned up against the counter, elbows resting on the glossy surface. "I dunno….when it all came down to it, I guess he was a pretty good dad. Well….maybe not—but he sure was….interesting. And fun. I remember this one time he took Dan and I—"

"Enough! John, please, enough of this!"

JD's head snapped so fast in his mother's direction he was sure he'd felt something twinge. "W-what?" He managed, eyes wide with disbelief, "Mom….how can you….how can you say that?"

His mother bit her lip, inhaling sharply.

"Mom?" JD asked again, confusion morphing into slight irritation.

"John…." Barbara said after a moment, "I….I'm sorry but…."

"But?"

Another sharp breath, "There are some things about that man you just…." Her words died again; suddenly regaining interest in her glass.

Staring at her, the irritation began to transform into misunderstood anger. "I can't believe you!" He cried, launching himself from the countertop into her face, "After all….all of _this_" he made a swooping gesture the bar "you're telling me you still have issues with my father?! Dammit mom, he's _dead_, okay? There's nothing more he can—"

"JD….honey…."

He stopped. His mother never called him JD.

Still enraged, he answered with a gruff "What?" His furrowed brow deepening the crevices in his forehead.

Barbara sighed, a single tear escaping her eyes. "….he's not your father."


End file.
